going, going, gone
by westallens
Summary: She descends the staircase and Barry finds his heart is stuck pounding away in his throat. —Iris/Barry.


She descends the staircase and Barry finds his heart is stuck pounding away in his throat.

It's like a movie moment (the very ones him and Iris have snuck downstairs countless times in the middle of the night to watch, knowing all the while they would soon be caught): with the boy staring open-mouthed at the girl as she makes her way over to him and beams, waiting for a stunned compliment to leave his lips.

Iris is a vision decked in white, gold bangles adorning her wrist and matching earrings twinkling, hanging from her ears. Her necklace is a pearly white; it suits her, and the dress, impeccably.

Yes, it is a movie movement. But he is not the love interest.

"You look beautiful," Iris' boyfriend Derek says, all wide grin and bright eyes, as she comes to stand in front of him.

"Thanks, babe," she says, leaning up to kiss him chastely on the cheek (Joe's nearby, arms crossed and frowning, and there's no way he wouldn't clear his throat or do _something_ if they actually kissed).

Soon after her gaze moves over to Barry. She looks inquisitive and happy, and he freezes in place.

"Uhm, uh," he stammers, ears blooming red. The flush is travelling up his chest—he can feel it. "You look…great, Iris."

Her teeth glint at him, white and delicate like the pearls strung across her neck. "Why thank you. You don't look bad yourself, Allen," Iris teases, grin in place. "Tina will be coming right down. Trust me: you'll hit it off. She's as much of a nerd as you are. Not to mention she looks _gorgeous_. Prepare yourself."

Tina comes down wearing a strapless pink dress, and though she does look every bit as gorgeous as Iris claimed, it does not feel the same.

* * *

Junior prom unfolds just the way he expected it to.

Not even one hour in and Tina's lips are stretched in a strained smile as they dance. He keeps on stepping on her toes, his black loafers chipping the bright pink nail polish. Apologies stream from his lips every second.

She nearly runs away from him the moment the song ends, saying something about needing a bathroom break.

That was a half an hour ago. No bathroom break takes that long, not to mention Barry can see her dancing with the jock who had stuffed him in a locker last week from across the room.

He's glad that she's not coming back, though. Tina is pretty, but that only makes it impossible for him to look her in the eye.

While they are alike when it comes to smarts, that is where the similarities end. Tina is infinitely more social than he can ever hope to be, and nothing about her screams _please, bully me!_ like he seems to.

"Sorry, Barry. I really thought you two would hit it off." Iris comes up to stand beside him, frowning as she watches Tina dance with the jock.

"It's okay," he says breezily. "Where's Derek?"

"Went to get some drinks. Hopefully ones that _aren't_ spiked."

He hums. "Well, how's junior prom so far?"

"It's good. Derek dances better than I thought." Her smile wans as she turns to look at him. She's feeling guilty — it's not hard to tell. Not for him, at least. "How's it for you?"

"Not too bad," he lies. He's bored out of his mind, to be honest, but brief glimpses of Iris weaving through the crowd makes it bearable.

Iris frowns to herself, features crumpling, before they light up once more. She turns to him so fast her hair flies into his face. "Let's dance!"

Barry blinks, caught off-guard. He had been sweeping a lock of her hair off of his cheek. "Huh?"

"You, me, and the dance floor," she says, brows waggling in a way that makes him chuckle despite his wariness.

"What about Derek?"

She waves a dismissive hand. "He won't mind. He's all tired out from the dancing. If anything, he'll _thank_ you for taking me off his hands."

Barry begs to differ, but instead just grins and shakes his head. "I suck at dancing. You know that. I'll just step on your toes like I did with Tina."

"I can handle it."

"Face it, Iris. I'm a lost cause."

"You're not a lost cause, you're my best friend," is her earnest reply. Then her lips are puckering, her eyes are widening, and she's folding her hands under her chin. "Come on? Just one song! _One_."

How can he ever deny her anything?

His face must have given him away, for she laughs and grabs his hand, dragging him towards the dance floor. They pass Derek, who raises one of the drinks in his hand to Barry in a solemn salute. He nods back, smiling.

The song is a slow one, which isn't surprising. Most of them have been slow. It's with much trepidation that Barry places two hands flat against her back, the fabric soft to the touch. Iris' arms wind around his shoulders. There is little distance between them, yet where he feels he's close to passing out, she looks perfectly fine.

And it's not their proximity that's troubling. They live under the same roof, have done so for years now; proximity has not been a problem for a while now. It's the situation. The _circumstance_.

Here they are — junior prom, a slow song playing, arms around one another, and swaying to the music.

It's perfect, really. Except for the part where he's stuck staring at their feet.

"Chin up, Allen," Iris says, laughing.

But how can he? He doesn't want to mess this up, not like how he messed up dancing with Tina.

"I can't," Barry hisses, but this only serves to make his best friend and longtime crush more amused.

"If you're so sure that you'll step on my feet, it will happen. Isn't there a science-y term for it or something?"

"Murphy's law," he mumbles, though he still doesn't look up.

"Come on. It'll be fine. Even if you step on my feet, I promise I won't hate you forever or go dance with the asshole who stuffed you in a locker last week."

Barry frowns, exhales heavily through his nose, and finally looks up.

He is met with Iris' steady gaze. Her smile widens until her lips almost stretch from ear-to-ear. That's one of the things he loves most about her. How she never smiles half-heartedly, not if it's a genuine smile.

The unease ebbs away some, though only because he is unable to think of anything other than _her smile is so beautiful she is so beautiful I can't believe she's dancing with me on junior prom_. It's a movie movement.

And maybe that's a sign from the world around him, telling him to just go for it. Just tell her how he feels. open his mouth and let the words tumble out; a confession he has pieced together and perfected for years now, though never had the guts to say.

 _ **I loved you before I even knew what the word love meant.**_

— except Barry Allen is not the love interest. He is definitely not Iris West's love interest. Her actual love interest is near the buffet table, might even be watching them right now.

That's enough for him to come crashing back to reality.

As if right on cue Iris says, "You're doing it, Barry!" The lights beating down on them are reflected in her eyes. "See? Told you you had it in you! Tina doesn't know what she's missing."

He ducks his head, trying to compose himself. He's almost afraid of what might leave his lips should he try to talk.

"…thanks, Iris," he musters eventually. "For everything."

She scoffs. "For what? I got you a date that walked out on you."

"Yeah, well, it's the thought that counts for that. But I meant for everything. For taking me in, for being my friend, for staying up with me while I stressed over exams, for"—here he laughs, a little unhinged—"dancing with me after my date walked out on me. For _helping_. Always."

It's not the confession he's wanted to make, but it's something.

Her eyes look a little shiny, and her smile softens into one of her rare smiles that lets him know she's touched by something he did. "Barry," she breathes, "you don't need to thank me for that. You've done so much for me over these years too, y'know."

But they both know how difficult things have been for him after his mother was killed and his father arrested. How for a long time barry had believed things would never look up. How it was Joe and Iris who helped him through all his temper tantrums and attempts at running away.

They don't speak of it now, but they know.

Iris tugs him forward suddenly, and he stumbles into the hug. It's after some hesitation that his hands move, sliding over the material of her dress, until he's hugging her back.

"Happy junior prom," she whispers, as if it's a birthday or new year's.

He chuckles. "Happy junior prom," he says. Swallows all the words he wants to say.

They feel like knives going down.

* * *

The song ends too soon. He had dreaded it at first, but now he wants to keep dancing, wants to keep talking about stupid stuff and laughing over lame jokes and making fun of the jocks who are shit dancers.

But the song ends, uncaring of his silent protests, and Iris steps away and into Derek's waiting arms, and Barry's left standing in the middle of the dance floor.

Later, when he's standing by the buffet table sipping the punch Derek had pressed into his hand earlier, his eyes meet Iris' from over Derek shoulder. She smiles, and it's impossible not to smile back; even with his throat tight, even when he doesn't feel like smiling.

* * *

A/N:

 _Cross-posted from AO3! I adore WestAllen, and it's a shame there aren't more stories for them circulating on FFN, so I decided to go ahead and add to the pile! I have had ideas for other stories, longer ones, but I tend to have a terrible track record with full-fledged stories so I'm kind of holding off at the moment. (You can check out the tentative summary for it on my profile, however.)_

 _Anywhom, hope you enjoyed, and do favourite or review if you did!_


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